Wrong Number
by kbeto
Summary: A night out and a fake number. That's all Stiles needs to find real romance. Sterek, fluff, rated T for everything I put in my stories.


_Disclaimer: I won nothing and plot comes from **captain-snark**'s idea with the graphic collab from **littlecofiegirl **(both on tumblr)._

_A/N: To **raisemesomehale** (on AO3) for wanting this 'like burning'. I hope it won't disappoint her much! *nervous laughter*_

Wrong Number

"He's looking at you."

"No, he's not."

"You're right, he just happen to be casually undressing you in his mind," Erica scoffed, stirring her drink with one of her flawlessly manicured nails. "Why is it so hard to believe that you're one of the hot guys, Stiles?"

"See this?" Stiles motioned to his face with a circular movement clockwise and then another counterclockwise. "This face doesn't do the hot, okay?"

Erica sighed, resisting the urge to flick his friend square on the forehead. They had been sitting for at least 20 minutes at this bar where she could point at least four guys and three girls eyeing Stiles with unholy thoughts in mind. For goodness' sake! One of them had 'I want him to sit on my face' written all over her forehead and seemed to have a bad case of oral fixation, doing all the kind of lewd things to a straw— all that without taking her eyes from the boy.

"Interested or not, he's making his way over here," she whispered, standing up with the excuse of going to reapply lipstick. "Good luck!" Erica mouthed, walking past a blond guy in a black shirt one size too small for him and his bulging muscles, and disappearing towards the toilet.

'Captain America' —as Stiles nicknamed him— flashed the most pearly and white teeth Stiles have ever seen in his whole life. In fact, he wouldn't be surprised if the guy produced some toothpaste from his pocket and started talking about the benefits and importance of oral hygiene— maybe his family was composed solely of dentists or something.

"I hope she's not your girlfriend," America spoke, rubbing his nose as if embarrassed and stopping in front of Stiles with his disturbingly white teeth. Lost for words, Stiles just shook his head in response, eyes wandering to the guy's butt when he bent down to pull one stool to sit down. "Good, I don't go for unavailable man. I'm Nathan."

_God Bless America._ Stiles swallowed hard, haphazardly taking the hand in front of him. His eyes sort of betrayed him —as did his mouth hanging open— for the time they spent zooming on those biceps, but he still managed to regain some composure and attempt a normal conversation. "Hey, Nathan! I'm Stiles, it's a pleasure meeting you."

"Really? And we're both still clothed," Nathan shrugged, smile still on his face.

Stiles _so_ needed a drink.

~#~

By the time Erica returned —that happened to coincide with the time Nathan left, but that's just coincidence— Stiles was immersed in this trance-like state, left hand cupping one cheek and a piece of paper between his fingers on his right hand. There was a number scribbled in untidy calligraphy followed by a winky face on it, and below the number Erica could read the name 'Nathan'.

"So, how did it go with 'Nathan'?" She pried, looping an arm around her friend's shoulders. Her grin obviously showed she witnessed the three kisses (cheek, cheek, mouth) Stiles received, though that wouldn't stop her from wanting details from the source. "You seem on cloud nine, boy!"

"He asked me to go back to his place," Stiles spoke absent-mindedly, fingers tracing a path from the cheek Nathan had kissed to his lips. It seemed like 'America' has some damn soft lips, as well. "I said we should do something together and he said we should have a date next week. He gave me his number and everything."

Erica's smile faltered in record time. "Stiles, dear, did you ask him to repeat his number?" He shook his head. "I don't want to burst your bubble, but that guy was probably some jerk just wanting to bone you. I bet this isn't even a valid number, Tiger."

"He wouldn't—" Stiles heart dropped to his stomach, as he fumbled to get his phone out and input the number given to him, putting the device to his ear and exiting the bar for better reception.

One. Two. Three. On the third ring a male voice answered him, sounding slightly annoyed and groggy from sleep. _"Derek speaking. Who's this?"_

"Uh, hi! I don't believe there's a Nathan there... am I right?" Stiles scratched his head, kicking a cigarette butt at his feet; he wanted to plunge himself into a hole from embarrassment.

"_I would be surprised to find him in my bed, especially as I don't know any Nathan,"_ the guy groaned, probably sitting up in bed. His voice was just enough to make that groan sound more _sexual_ than it should have been, and for a second Stiles _so_ not thought about a hot guy attached to that voice.

"Sorry for waking you up, dude."

"_It happens." _

And with that the mysterious guy was gone with click, leaving Stiles to try calling Nathan again; he probably dialed the wrong number. A deep breath to build some courage, and Stiles got to dialing again the number on the paper, paying close attention to every single digit.

"Hello?"

There was a pained sigh on the other side. _"It's still me. I'm sorry, dude,"_ the Derek guy spoke in a sympathetic voice, no trace of the initial irritation from their first talk.

Stiles laughed. He laughed not because he wanted to laugh, but because his body simply prompted him laugh. "I guess he really gave me a fake number, huh?" he scoffed. "I'm such an idiot."

"_Hey! It's not a fake number, it's my number."_ Derek protested. His tone changed to something a bit more humorous, one that would make Stiles laugh in any other situation. _"Do you— you wanna talk about it?"_

"Weren't you sleeping?"

"_Weren't you calling me?"_

"Touché."

~#~

"I'm sorry that I let the douche approach you," Erica tangled her fingers on Stiles' hair, gently massaging his scalp while he drove her back home. "Next time I see him, I'll make sure he can't procreate and fill the planet with the likes of him."

"It wasn't so bad, I made a new friend," Stile shrugged, tapping the steering wheel to the 'Careless Whisper'. His love for old love songs couldn't be really explained by even his own dad.

Erica tilted her head sideways, arching an eyebrow in a very knowingly way. "A new friend? How so?"

A long explanation about what happened after Stiles called Derek a second time kept Erica entertained till she climbed down the jeep. Stiles told her how the guy talked to him for half an hour, despite not knowing nothing about Stiles, except that he got the wrong phone number from a douche with blindly white teeth and muscles akin to Captain America's.

"_I don't mind if you call me again,"_ Derek's voice repeated it in Stiles' mind, prompting him to smile wide. "He said it's fine as long as I don't wake up him again," he chuckled.

"I guess this one isn't some asshole playing the 'nice guy' card." Stiles found himself having his cheek pinched and being cooed at. If he were to be honest with himself, his interest in knowing more about Derek had pushed Nathan out of his thoughts long hours ago.

~#~

A week had passed since the whole Captain Douche incident, and Stiles didn't even think about it anymore— he was too much busy with a budding friendship with Derek. 'Friendship' Stiles would say to anyone, even though he was certainly open to get to know Derek better, like his favorite color and those tidbits when usually meet someone new. _When you meet someone on a date,_ his traitor mind would add.

"Where's your courage Stiles?" He slammed his head on the table, nearly spilling his latte everywhere.

Just one touch on the screen, and he would be talking to Derek like they got used to do every night for the past week. What was the big deal, then?

"_Hey, Stiles!" _Stiles frowned when Derek finally answered. He didn't remember a single time that he called anybody to hear them back so clear like they were beside him. _"Stiles?" _

A very attractive man in a suit —sitting with a smartly dressed, beautiful lady just one table away— kept calling Stiles' name on his phone. Stiles _really_ didn't believe in high likelihood of him having a namesake living in Beacon Hills. _Shit._

Struggling to end the call and hide behind a menu on the table, Stiles sank on his seat, pushing his phone away. He planned on calling Derek for a date, that much was true, but he didn't count on meeting his mysterious guy like that. Not when he's in an old sweater and the guy seemed to have fled from the porn version of Man in Black.

"I did some really bad shit in a past life," he banged his head against the table again. "What a rotten luck, dude."

_What is love_  
_ Baby don't hurt me_  
_ Don't hurt me_  
_ No more_

Haddaway almost gave Stiles a heart attack, making him flail around on his attempt of silencing his phone. Stiles' hands chose the worst time to unlearn how to hold things, and he ended slapping the device all the way to a table nearby. Part of him wanted the phone to be damaged beyond repair from such fall, part of him dreaded having to buy a new one, and another part just wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole— it was a tough decision, really.

"Stiles?" the same voice he learned to appreciate over the past week spoke again, this time just a few inches from him, as a pair of shiny shoes indicated.

Stiles lifted his eyes, suddenly feeling his head very light (maybe he should avoid banging it against every flat surface he came across) and waving a meek 'hi'. "Derek? Hey! Uh.. nice weather, isn't it?"

~#~

"I'm sorry, I can't really help it," Erica guffawed, occasionally wiping stray tears from her eyes. She couldn't even _pretend_ that she was trying not to laugh so hard, because she really wasn't.

"The worst part is that he thought Laura was my wife, even after I asked him out," Derek grinned, looping his arm around his boyfriend's waist and pressing their sides together. "Uh, your wife lets you date other men? It's one of those open relationships I read about?" Stiles slapped Derek on the chest, huffing his cheeks in offense. He didn't sound like that. _At all._

After four months of dating, he felt it was time for Derek to know his family and close friends. Scott and Isaac were visiting Allison and Lydia in Amsterdam, so Erica would be the first one to laugh at his expense and share embarrassing stories with his hot boyfriend. Probably _the_ hottest boyfriend on Earth, if Stiles said so himself.

Their relationship transitioned so naturally from being phone buddies to officially dating, that many times Derek found Stiles pinching himself _"to be sure it's not a dream"_. And it really felt like that, if anything. Not in a Hollywood way that they didn't have any problems, but in a way that Derek showed interest and truly respected Stiles as a person. Late nights conversation, tracing random patterns with a finger on each other's skins after sex— everything made both feel connected.

"The things I let you get away with," Stiles rolled his eyes. "I'll get some drinks for us. Come with me, _alleged_ best friend," he said, glaring at Erica and dragging her away with him, not really awaiting for a reply.

"Such a sin to let someone like you all alone."

Derek turned his head to see a muscled guy of blond hair smiling at him. "Can I help you?" He asked the stranger, watching the guy invite himself and sit on the stool Erica had previous occupied. Something seemed familiar to Derek, though he was sure he didn't know the guy.

"Only if I can show you my place," he grinned. "I'm Andrew, by the way."

"You!" Derek and the guy turned to see Stiles fuming, two drinks in hand and Erica in tow. "Andrew? That wasn't your name the last time I saw you, _Nathan_."

"Do I know you?"

_The nerve._ "You two-faced, lying bastard! I have only one thing to say to you," Stiles splashed his and Derek's drinks on the guy's face, making some people nearby gasp, Derek snickers, and Erica clap her hands. "Thank you."

The trio left the bar, leaving Nathan/Andrew to being laughed at.

~#~

"I'll be honest and admit that I enjoyed you putting that guy in his place," Derek chuckled against Stiles' hair, his chest rising and falling with the beginning of laughter. "I told you he was a major douche."

"Makes me feel bad that I felt bad when he lied to me, if that makes sense."

"I can't think of many things that made sense since you first called me," Derek pointed out, looking smug as ever.

Stiles angled his head to capture Derek's lips with his. "Touché."

~Fin~


End file.
